


Dishonored: Dog Days of Dunwall

by clockwork_raptorbot



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Animal Transformation, Crack, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-05 17:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11583129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockwork_raptorbot/pseuds/clockwork_raptorbot
Summary: The assassination attempt on the Empress does not go as planned. At all. Corvo and Daud get turned into dogs as a result. Then they have to team up to stop the coup from being re-tried. The Outsider is highly entertained.Basically: He's the Royal Protector turned corgi; he's a master assassin turned wolfhound. Together, they fight crime!(Angst, language, some violence. Also lots of dog hair getting into everything.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 

 

The night before the Empress is to die, Corvo Attano dreams of the Void.

He's kneeling on shattered rock, wrapped in the starless sky, and stares out into the pieces of memory and probability. It's a dream, and it feels too real. He's never doubted his senses. Instinct kept him alive on the streets of Karnaca; skill keeps his Empress and his daughter safe in Dunwall.

"I didn't expect you here early," says a voice like sea-current and silk.

Corvo turns.

The Outsider sits crosslegged on a spar of voidstone, elegant and languid; their black hair is stylishly mussed, their deathless eyes amused. "So often it's trauma that leads people here. Longing. Vengeance." They lean forward, a wry smile on their thin lips. "People pray to my shrines and seek answers in bones."

Corvo watches the Outsider flatly. "What do you want?"

The Outsider flies apart: eel-like sparks, specks of ash. They appear behind Corvo again, lounging upright against a broken spar. "I don't want anything, directly."

Corvo's not amused. He wants to wake up; leave this place, find himself in his bunk on the ship bed...or another's. He doesn't visit the sailor often. Doesn't even know the man's name. Safer for them both that way. It's a long journey back to Dunwall.

"Would you do anything to protect your Empress?" the Outsider murmurs, flickering to stand beside Corvo.

There's only, ever, one answer to that. "Yes." He turns, hand dropping to his side where he no longer carries a sword in his dreams. "You threaten her and I'll—"

The Outsider laughs. It's the sound of distant whalesong and the crinkling of expensive paper bunched in a fist. "I don't threaten anyone, Corvo. But I will offer you something. A gift. My help."

"Don't need your help," Corvo says, uncertain despite his brusque front. He's dreamed before: seen blood, Jessamine's body broken on the terrance, his daughter screaming as she's dragged away. Not premonitions. Just possibilities. He's the Royal Protector. It's his duty to imagine, and to prevent any part of his fears from becoming reality.

"Think of it as a tool in your arsenal," the Outsider says with a smile. "I've watched you a long time."

Lots of people have. Enemies, allies. Lovers. Corvo shrugs.

"If you wish to protect your Empress, take my mark. Take the power I offer so you need never hold her heart in your hand."

It's just a dream, Corvo tells himself. He knows better; knows, and still hesitates. He will do anything he must to keep his loved ones safe. What price won't he pay, in the end? He can hide scars, so no one will know what he's done.

Corvo says, "Fine."

The back of his left hand burns and then he's no longer dreaming as the dawn stretches through the boat cabin's round window and he smells the salt and knows he's almost home.

#

Daud watches the Empress and her Royal Protector from his vantage point high on a roof. He's tired. Didn't sleep much. The mark on his hand, that black-eyed bastards's mark, burned all night. The doubts come, like they do. Is this what he wants his legacy to be? Assassin of the Empress? Deliverer of a child into the hands of a coup?

He'll have to kill the Royal Protector, too. It'll be _mercy_. Daud still remembers how to show it.

All this for coin. He sighs. Soon it'll be over. A job finished; maybe a new future. If he lives. Sometimes, when the doubts come, he wonders how different his career would have been if he'd refused the Outsider.

_Another corpse in another street, likely._ That's all his life really is, isn't it: corpses and streets. He used to want more and has never let himself believe—not really—that he deserves it.

One of his assassins turns her head toward him. Signs, _Ready?_

Daud gives the signal. It's time for the Empress to die.

#

Corvo's arms ache with the desire to pull Jessamine close, feel her strong hands on his back, the warmth of her heartbeat against his ribs. He bows, instead. Keeps it professional: the public lie that he's only her bodyguard. How many whispers drift in alleys and between the gossiping lips of nobles at parties of how he's fucking the empress in closets, on the roof, in the dungeons of Dunwall.

Not that any of that's a lie...he holds this gnawing irritation, a thought tucked deep and private, that he wishes the rumors wouldn't condense it only into fucking. He loves her. In another life, perhaps, he wouldn't have to hide.

Jessamine turns, unspooling the letter he's carried. Her voice bears sorrow as she reads the news. She's speaking but suddenly he's not listening.

Corvo's neck prickles. Something's wrong in the air. A hum like Sokolov's machines—electric, unnatural. The soldiers have disappeared from their posts. Emily is staring up at her mother, frowning.

Time itself feels slow, muddied and gray-tinged, stretching out like the Void.

His left hand aches. He looks down: the glove hides the brand left in his skin, more than a dream. He senses magic—a second later masked figures blink into the gazebo.

He kills two assassins before they can get within reach of Jessamine or Emily. Instinct. Habit. Rage. He cuts down a third as a man in a red coat appears on the gazebo and time...stutters.

Power thrums under the assassin's skin: Void magic. He moves out of sync with reality, too fast for mortal reflexes. Corvo flings his hand out, willing the Outsider's mark to pull the man to him, onto his blade. The assassin lifts a palm. Light flares between them. The friction burns against his mind, like wind-flung dust abrading his skin.

Corvo sprints forward. In his peripheral vision, he sees the Lord Regent and soldiers suspended in mid-stride, mouths agape in shock.

He will kill everyone—everything—that threatens his family. He pulls on the Void-magic inside him and lashes out at the master assassin. Daud—and he knows, a heartbeat surge of rage and understanding, that this is Daud—clenches his fist and magic meets magic.

Corvo feels pressure wrapping them both, tearing at their bodies and sense of what is _whole_ , of what is real. And then the magic explodes.

The shockwave knocks everyone in the gazebo flat. Corvo's vision spins, and he realizes a second too late he's caught in the air, a fly in an unseen web. Daud is beside him. They're falling, both of them, down towards the rocks and the sea.

Time expands again, a lung expanded after held breath, then wind tugs at Corvo's hair and clothes and teeth as he falls.

He hits the water, plunges into salt and cold, and in an instant before blackness swallows him—soft and wet as a whale's mouth—he swears he can hear the Outsider's laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 

 

Daud always expected death to come at the edge of a blade. In his back or in his throat, it would end the same. In blood, in an unnamed street. One day. He's always known his fate.

This sensation of falling isn't _right_. His spine should have snapped when he hit the wave-cracked surface of the ocean. He should have been sucked downward by current until his lungs filled with salt and hagfish squirmed inside his throat.

Instead, he's still falling. Through the Void, slow, almost leisurely, with the Royal Protector's stunned form beside him. Daud grapples for control—wants to pull himself onto shattered rock and gain his feet. Wants to find his way back, away from the black-eyed bastard who wafts about in faded finery and infuriating airs.

Corvo Attano's eyes open and he stabs at Daud, weaponless, ever the soldier. Daud ignores the Royal Protector. He doesn't care what Corvo wants.

Daud failed—didn't kill the mark, and that brings an odd satisfaction. The Empress's death and her daughter's corruption aren't on his conscience now. Doesn't mean he wants to float here, rootless, in the Void for eternity. He's seen how this place drives you mad. He's seen the Outsider's manic smile. Wonders what the boy's been doing for this long, alone in the cold.

"You have an odd way of trying to kill people," says the Outsider.

Suddenly Daud lands hard on his back on shale and whalebone. Corvo groans and scrabbles to his knees. Daud stares up at the expanse of empty sky.

Black eyes, tousled hair, a mocking smile. The Outsider leans over him, expression upside down. Duad snorts.

The Outsider flickers and resumes lounging supine on a slab of rock. "Let me tell you a story about—"

"No." Corvo's voice rasps. "Fucking let me out."

Daud sits up, an eyebrow raised. He's beginning to like the way the Royal Protector thinks.

"You drowned," the Outsider says blithely. "Both of you. Cast on the bones and sunken corpses in the rocks. Did you know they throw the bodies of old wolfhounds into the sea? Some grind them for meat, but there are others who respect the service of their hounds and grant them freedom in the waves."

"Didn't hurt," Daud says, tilting his head a fraction at the Royal Protector. "Unexpected."

Corvo glares at him, then turns his fury once more upon the Outsider. "Let. Me. Go."

"The leviathans once believed that to die unfulfilled leaves the ghost-song lost in the waves. It's why, at times, you hear the sonorous call of dead whales who are forever drifting." The Outsider vanishes in smoke and the smell of brine, and reappears above Daud's head, draped bonelessly over a splinter of rock. "What do you believe happens to your soul when you die? You've never had an answer, have you? Not one that satisfies you."

Corvo clenches his hand, and in a heartbeat, he blinks up to where the Outsider lounges. He grabs the boy by the throat and lifts him. "I need to protect Jessamine and Emily."

"From more than just me," Daud says dryly. Corvo's gaze snaps to him and he shrugs. "You didn't think I took this job for a lark, did you? It paid well. And I can give you those who paid."

The Outsider smiles, unperturbed by being strangled. "Change of heart?"

Daud shrugs. If he's dead, what's it matter? It's not as if things change in the world. The powerful pay for more power; the poor die penniless; the plague grinds down the cities of the world, breeding pyres and despair. It's cyclical. One empress or another, it doesn't make a difference. The world always burns.

The Outsider vanishes from Corvo's hold and appears on one knee in front of Daud. "What if you could keep it from burning? Would you?"

Daud thinks of Billie, Lizzy, Thomas, his crew. Thinks of how, when he took the job to murder an Empress, he thought of the coin: a new start in a new city. Disappear, reforge his identity in another place, become something Daud can never be: happy. Thinks of all the blood under his nails, the corpses he's left in the names of vengeance or greed or lust born in others.

Would he keep the world from burning, if he could? If it'll give him a chance to try again, then, "Yes," he says, and the Outsider laughs.

#

Corvo wakes, and it's not from a dream—he remembers the crush of water, the salt in his lungs, and then the Void and the Outsider's lyrical amusement.

He sits up, breathing hard, and finds himself in a metal crate. A big wolfhound lies beside him, its chin on its paws, eyes half-closed. It watches him sidelong, uninterested.

Corvo's first impression is heat. He's so warm, and he can't feel the weight of his sword or pistol on his belt. He reaches for his jacket collar.

He has paws. He has a snout. Nonexistent tail, short legs, over-large ears, and a coat of brown and white fur.

Corvo yelps in surprise. **By the Void...**

The wolfhound lifts its head. **Well well, Royal Protector. The look suits you.**

**Daud?** Corvo growls.

The wolfhound glances back at himself, then stretches and stands. He's much, much taller than Corvo. His back nearly brushes the roof of the kennel.

**You tried to kill her.** Fury wells in Corvo and he lunges at the other dog.

Almost languidly, Daud bops him on the muzzle with a paw and knocks him sprawling back into the wall. Corvo leaps up, shaking himself, and bares his teeth.

**Do you want to save your Empress and her daughter?**  Daud asks, unimpressed.

**I will destroy any who threaten them.**  It is more than his duty. It is his life.

**And I'll help,**  Daud says, **in exchange for one thing.**

Corvo's hackles bristle. He doesn't make deals with assassins. Yet...he knows he's in no position to refuse. Not when he's a dog. A small dog. He hopes to the void he's not what one might call "cute."

**What is it?**

**When your Empress is safe, when the traitors are in chains, you let me go,** Daud says. **I walk away, leave the city, and never come back. You don't follow. Agreed?**

Corvo stares at the wolfhound—once master assassin, his name legend—and wonders if it can be that simple. To want to live, without fear, until one's days come to a quiet end.

Fine. If Daud knows who initiated the attempted coup, then it is his duty to utilize any information to save Jessamine and Emily. And maybe he'll find a way to restore himself to his human form.

**Agreed,**  he says.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 

 

Corvo smells unease in Dunwall Tower.

He reorients himself in his world, where he is no longer human...an outsider in his own home.

The kennel keep opened the door moments ago and stared at them, her expression confused, but Corvo strode past her with an imperious look. Daud glides after him now, silent and alert.

 **Show me the traitors,**  Corvo says as he trots across the courtyard from the kennels towards the keep. Should not the Royal Spymaster have uncovered this plot? His scruff bristles. When he remembers Jessamine's shock and Emily's fear, his lips curls back.

 **Hide your teeth,**  Daud says mildly. **Do you mean to bite the ankles of the men responsible?**

**They will die by my blade.**

Daud looks at him; the wolfhound's brow mimics a raised eyebrow. Corvo lays his ears back in frustration.

 **They will die, nonetheless,**  he says. He has no mercy for those who would bring pain upon his family.

People—humans—pass them by with nary a glance. Corvo sees mostly calves and knees, and has to lift his head to glance at faces. Servants hurrying about their work; guards on patrol; civilians huddles in groups and whispering together.

"...attempt on her life!" a woman says, fanning herself in the shade of the high wall. "Scandalous."

"Have they caught the traitors?" a man asks.

"Not yet. The Royal Protector has vanished. Some say he was magicked away by the Outsider."

"Nonsense," the man says with a nervous laugh. "There's no such thing, anyway."

"I hear that Anton Sokolov is designing a new machine to protect all of Dunwall from the Void..."

"Well _I_ heard that his elixir for the plague is nothing but diluted wine, and he makes a profit off this!"

Corvo snorts and trots past the gossips.

 **If you want my advice,**  Daud says, keeping pace though his steps are one for every three of Corvo's, **focus on Hiram Burrows.**

**The Royal Spymaster?**

**He hired me,** Daud says.

Corvo stops short and looks up at the wolfhound. Daud stares back at him, impassive.

 **You'll need proof, of course,**  Daud says. **He'll be frantic to cover his tracks and disappear anyone who might know of the plans for a coup.**

Corvo is inclined to rip Burrows's throat out, yet—Jessamine is a just Empress. There must be trial, an adherence to law. He'll find the evidence he needs, then.

A rat scuttles along the base of the tower wall, and Corvo's blood surges. He barks and sprints after the rodent. It must be shaken, broken, devoured—

He skids to a stop, pushing down a hound's instinct. He's not a fucking dog—his body, perhaps, but his mind is a man's—and he turns around to glare at Daud. The wolfhound has disappeared. The tip of a tail vanishes around a stack of crates. Where is he going?

Corvo needs to get inside Dunwall Tower, find Jessamine...

"Ahhhhh!"

The shriek raises the fur along his back and he spins around. A girl's voice—danger?

Emily. She comes tearing across the cobbled yard, her governess calling after her in despair. Emily's white dress flaps about her knees, her black shoes clicking stone, and her hair flying behind her. Her eyes are alight with joy as she pounces on Corvo.

Relief spirals through him and his tail wags of its own accord.

"You are just the _cutest_ thing! Where did you come from? Are you a present from Corvo? He said he would bring me something special but then he..." Her face crumples. She crouches and rubs his ears, her voice a bubble of emotion. "He's still gone. But you're so cute!"

Corvo barks. **Emily, it's me—**

Emily squeals in glee and scoops him up. "Oh, look at you!" He dangles in her grasp, his hind legs swinging as she holds him under his arms.

He wiggles to escape, but she's relentless. He's proud of her strength. Even when he's being...suspended like this. It's embarrassing.

The governess catches up and ushers her inside. Emily chatters non-stop. Corvo swings uncomfortably in her arms the entire way. He's at least relieved to see four guards flanking her and the governess. Their eyes are watchful, postures straight and alert. Good.

Corvo's arms and ribs ache by the time Emily slips into her bedroom, dismisses her governess with a complaint of a headache, and tells the guards she's taking a nap. No one has seemed perturbed by Corvo's presence.

"You know who you remind me of?" She sets him on the bed and plops down next to him.

Corvo sits and stares at her, panting. Outsider take him, this is humiliating and yet he doesn't want her to ever leave. When he's near her, at least he can protect her.

"With that cute little tuft of fur on your head, I think you look like Corvo." Emily giggles. Then sobers. "He disappeared, you know. Mama says he'll come back, but when?"

 **I will never abandon you,** he barks, but of course, she doesn't understand him in dog.

"I suppose." Emily sweeps him into her arms again and trots down the hallway. Corvo bounces in her hold. Outsider take him, he has never felt more sympathy for pet animals in his life.

No one will ever know. Thank the Void.

Emily bursts into Jessamine's study and holds Corvo up for her mother's approval. "Look, I'm adopting this dog because he looks like Corvo!"

Jessamine swings around, her brow crinkled in distraction. "What? Oh. Yes, he's cute, Emily."

"I'm going to name him Corgo."

**What the fuck! Emily, _no_.**

He squirms but she holds him with relentless affection.

Jessamine smiles, yet her eyes are sad. "He'll come back, love."

"I know," Emily whispers. She hugs Corvo close and he doesn't resist. Her child heartbeat echoes through his back, and he longs to console her. "I just wish I knew  _when_."

 **Soon.** He tilts his head up and licks her cheek. **As soon as I can, Emily.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 

  
The streets smell like misery as Daud, drawn by habit to shadows and sides streets, pads through Dunwall towards familiar territory. He's all but invisible: another dog lurking about dumpsters and back alleys.

It's refreshing. Not the smells, no—a sensitive nose makes it all worse, even when he didn't wear a mask. What he likes is that he's nobody now. There's no fear at his presence, no competitive urge to kill. He doesn't have to watch his back for the inevitable betrayal.

Much as he despises the black-eyed bastard who marked him, Daud finds himself almost...grateful. As a wolfhound, he can let himself think without wariness. He misses his coat, though. Brown-gray fur is no match for that worn red jacket, his prize, his pride. He'll get it back. Daud always finds his targets.

He dodges the odd beggar and ignores the rats, winding through the plague-feared streets toward his hideout. Blackmail is easy. He kept Burrows's contract, rolled into a watertight seal, tucked in his desk.

Thomas asked, "Why not a safe?"

Daud shrugged. "If someone wants to steal it, a safe's no better than a drawer. A man will always find a way around locks."

Now he's glad of his pragmatism. A dog can't turn the dials on a safe; he's sure that jaws and toes can pry open an unlocked drawer.

He crouches in the lee of the old refinery. Sniffs the air. It's heavy with spilled oil, muddied waters, the reek of weeper bodies clustered about. He's never been proud of slipping a blade in a weeper's neck when he finds them. There's still fear in their bleeding eyes; still enough awareness to understand death.

He kills them to stem the plague as much as he kills them because he, too, fears that mindless, starving existence. Kills them because if he's ever infected, he wants a quick end. He'll do it for any of his people. Hopes they would honor him the same.

Daud shakes his head. Dogs don't get the plague. Ironic that he's safer now than when he sometimes wore a mask.

He knows the paths up to the roofs, but it's harder with four legs and no opposable thumbs. Daud sticks to the ground paths. Thomas has always liked hounds. Daud's never been bothered by Thomas's habit of bringing in strays to hunt rats or catch the scent of overseers.

Step by step, he slinks from shadow to corner to shadow, moving ever deeper into the rundown building he's called home. His office is accessible by street-level, and there are holes in the walls that a man might not fit, but a dog might.

The plan's simple: he drops the evidence in the kennel for Corvo to take to the Empress, and then he makes himself scarce. Finds the Outsider and—

"What are you doing?"

Daud whirls, his hackles raised.

Thomas looks up from where he leans against a stack of crates, maps spread atop wood. The assassin's hand strays towards his blade hilt, then he hesitates. There are no others in the dilapidated room.

The crumbled roof is open to the sky, and dusk bleeds away sunlight. It'll be dark soon—better for him to return unnoticed. He doesn't want to harm Thomas, and he cannot let the other man get in his way.

Offering peace is still unnatural to him. He tries anyway.

Daud sits and proffers a front paw. Thomas crouches and takes Daud's paw in hand, shaking gently. Daud hears the smile in Thomas's voice behind the mask.

"Look who's a good boy," Thomas says. "Lost your way?"

**Found it just fine,**  Daud says, and the words come out a low whine. He tilts his head to the side.

"Oh!" Thomas sit back on his heels. "You look hungry."

True. Daud realizes his belly is empty and the plate of grapes left by his desk is unappetizing. He wants meat: red and raw.

Daud barks, wagging his tail. If the Outsider is watching, Daud wants the bastard to choke on his own laughter.

Thomas stands with a nod. "All right. You wait here. I think some of the crew were roasting skewers outside..."

Daud pants, ears pricked forward, trying not to show impatience. Thomas pats his head.

When the assassin is gone, Daud bounds over a pile of rubble and paws at the drawer of his desk. He needs to hurry. As hungry as he is, it can wait. Or he can catch rats. He doesn't want Thomas stopping him, even with endearing kindness.

There it is: the sealed letters, bound in a hardened resin tube. He picks it up with his jaws, turns, and flees the hideout.

In his wake, he hears Thomas whistling for him.

#

It's full dark when Emily falls asleep with Corvo curled up beside her on a pillow. He notices he's shed white and brown dog hair on the newly pressed linens. He winces inwardly. When he's human again, he'll remember to leave a tip for the laundress.

He eases away from Emily, hesitating as he looks on her peaceful expression. She still has a nub of colored chalk in her hand. Her latest drawing—herself, Jessamine, Corvo (as Royal Protector) and "Corgo" (the dog) standing in the gazebo—is displayed proudly on the bedside table next to a clock and a glass of water.

_I'll be back soon._

He hops effortlessly off the bed—and lands hard, the drop much further than he expected. Dammit. He glances back, but Emily simply rolls over, tugging all her blankets with her and begins snoring. So like her mother.

He smiles. He wants to stand guard at her door all night, even with the guards posted outside and another on the balcony and the governess asleep in a room next door. But he must find Daud, and confront Hiram Burrows.

The door to Emily's room is closed. Corvo sniffs, knows there are two guards on duty. One smells of old cigarette smoke and the other has spilled pear soda on his jacket. Corvo stands on his hind legs, but even stretching, he can't reach the knob.

_This is for your daughter,_  he tells himself, then quietly scratches at the door and whines.

"Is that the dog Her Highness brought in this afternoon?"

Corvo swallows a furious bark. He scratches the door again.

"I think it wants to get out."

"Why?"

"Probably has to piss. Dammit, _I_ need to pee."

"Ugh. Fine."

The door cracks open and Corvo dashes between the legs of the smoker before either guard can stop him. The door clicks shut. Good. At least they're doing their jobs.

His thoughts race as he hurries through the hallways. The Royal Spymaster has quarters on the north side of Dunwall Tower, a retrofitted room that doubles as his office. There's no good direct path as a dog. But there is a dumbwaiter from the kitchen that will take him up to the antechamber.

Unfortunately, he realizes that as empty as his stomach is, his bladder is full. He's not an animal, even given his transformation. But the restrooms are somewhat inaccessible to his size. Huffing with frustration, Corvo scuttles down the back servant stairway and heads towards the basement. There's a prison cell that's been unused for awhile. He can quickly do his business and then find the kitchen—and scrounge food while he's at it. It'll do no good to anyone if his stomach alerts Burrows before he can sneak into the man's chambers and discover the Spymaster's treachery.

The air cools and smells of must and age. Old stone broods heavy and damp, crusted in ancient salt along the mortar. This close to the sea, the ocean touches everything. Corvo has memorized all the passages and secret ways in and out of Dunwall Tower. At first he felt it his duty to know how an assassin might infiltrate. Later, he taught Jessamine these same passages so neither of them would be found.

The bones sing when he hops down from the last step and turns a corner towards the unused cell. Corvo's back prickles.

> _Old currents sweeping the legs of ancient squid into our mouth, tentacles wrapped and carving flesh, great eyes maddened from the pain as we bite, as we devour, as we sink into the depths._

He shakes his head, but the bones continue to hum and whisper. Corvo warily stalks into the dim-lit chamber. There's a shrine tucked against the wall, under a slit window that lets in the moon. Shards of black stone, eerie violet light born from tinted lantern glass.

Corvo scowls, his anger burning, mustering into a loud bark. **Show yourself. I know you're watching.**

A sleek black cat appears draped across the carved bone runes on the shrine. Their dark eyes gleam with mischief, and their tail tip twitches. The cat smiles. "Hello, Corvo."

#

The scroll concealed in his jaws, despite how it threatens to suffocate him with the taste of resin, Daud lopes back toward Dunwall Tower. The moon is bright, a silver medallion slung between the distant stars.

His mother once told him that a round moon was good luck. "It's the eye of an old leviathan," she said, dabbing her lips to hide the blood coughed up in a fit. "When it looks on you, pay it tribute and it'll bless your purse and your hand."

Daud wants nothing to do with the moon, or the legends of leviathans.

It's easier to see, and that's all he cares for. He dodges past prostitutes and idling guards, past packs of rats and cloth-swaddled bodies in need of disposal. He finds the old, half-pried-open grate he used to slip out of the walls and creeps back through a dried tunnel strewn with leaves, bits of stone, and a rat-eaten corpse. The stench is overpowering to his sensitive nose.

Discipline has always served him well. Daud endures. He wonders if Corvo has been draped with ribbons and fed sweetmeats and treated to a tea party with the princess. The idea makes him chuckle, and he almost spits out the scroll.

_Ah, Royal Protector: most loyal corgi in the empire._

He peeks out from behind a rust-speckled pipe near the kennels. The yard is empty now. He'll drop the evidence where it'll be found, but he needs to be certain whomever discovers it is not in allegiance to Burrows.

The Empress or her daughter, perhaps. He can find Corvo's scent and uphold his end of their bargain.

Daud slides free of his hiding spot, sprints through the moonlight, and heads for the tower.

"Oy! Pup!"

Daud flicks an ear at the woman's voice. The kennel keep, whom he and Corvo surprised earlier that day.

"What you doing out again?"

He turns, aware that running will sound an alarm. She's used to her hounds obeying her; he senses her command and her confidence. Damn.

Daud weighs his options. He can't show his teeth without dropping the scroll. Who has been bought by Burrows's coin or threats? He wags his tail, hesitant, and gages the distance between here and the closed doors to the courtyard. There's no easy way over the wall, at least in this form. A drop from the wall might break his legs.

The woman strides up to him, hands on her hips. "Come on, back inside, you. I swear if this is Cordelia playing another prank on me..." She reaches for his neck, where he wears no collar. She frowns. "Really? Another collar lost? I don't pay for cheap leather! Dammit, Cordelia..."

She snaps her fingers. A clear sign: follow.

Daud glances between her and the closed gates. His mouth aches from holding the scroll, but she seems not to have noticed it in his jaws. He follows the kennel keep like a good dog.

The moon shines bright: a mocking leviathan eye, open in wicked amusement.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 

 

  
**Why are you a cat,**  Corvo demands.

The Outside licks a paw, inspects it, then folds it daintily over the other paw. "Really, do you need to ask?"

**Hunt some rats. Make yourself useful.**

"Oh, Corvo. Where is the fun in that? Did you know the previous Empress grew allergic to cats when Jessamine was a girl? She had her husband outlaw them in Dunwall, and other cities followed suit. To gain favor, perhaps...and it let the rats in. Burn the antidote and the plague manifests faster. Now you fight with elixirs and traps, when your greatest allies prowl and sun themselves in Pandyssia without a care."

This is a waste of his time, yet Corvo tucks the information away. He's never wondered why there are so few cats; even with a brothel named the Golden Cat and statues tucked in glass display cases, the norm has been canines and rats, fish and fowl, and little else.

The Outsider stretches with a low _mrow_ and hops off the shrine. The cat's eyes are near level with Corvo's: dark and amused.

"If you want my advice," the Outsider says, "find your friend Daud and finish this before the dawn. You may not want to see what the sun brings."

Then the cat rubs their head under Corvo's chin, flicks his nose with their tail, then slinks away with a laugh. He looks over his shoulder, but of course the Outsider has vanished.

Corvo stands on his hind paws, snatches the rune in his jaws—because the song now haunts him and his teeth ache to gnaw on the old whale bone, and he will not be a puppet for the Outsider—and races back up the stairs towards the kitchen.

He needs to get outside and find Daud. And he still needs to pee.

#

The kennel door latches with an ominous _click_. Daud spits out the resined tube and lets his tongue loll in relief. His jaws still hurt. The evidence has scraped the roof of his mouth raw and he hopes the water-resistant casing has not been compromised with his saliva.

He flops down, considering his options.

Of which there are none. He let himself be caged, and he has no way to break free. There is a pile of hay in the back, and he noses the evidence underneath for safe keeping. He's heard the barking of other wolfhounds. The kennel keep will likely ignore any howls or protest, or come bang a crop against the sides of the boxes to shut up the racket.

 **Corvo?**  he calls. **Attano! Can you hear me? I have what you seek.**

No answer. Outside, rats squeak and scuttle and the moon blazes silver. Daud conserves his energy and flops down on his belly. He has to wait. In the past, he has been patient. It's learned; a skill, like the use of a blade or the aim of his wrist launcher, but now it is not his choice. He's imprisoned.

Will Burrows strike again? Daud doubts Thomas or the others will try to finish the job this soon. Better to lie low, avoid the Overseers that will hunt them with religious strictures and and unholy music and man-made guns.

The Royal Spymaster has other assets, though. He has men lined up to fill the gaping wounds left by an Empress's death and that of her Royal Protector. Old titles filled with new blood and ambition. Burrows will move quickly. He might prove sloppy in his haste, Daud and Corvo's advantage.

There is little time, but Daud is in a cage.

#

It's harder than Corvo thought, staying unnoticed when this short and carrying one of the Outsider's runes in his mouth. The bone tastes of old blood and whalesong, and the whispers worm into his thoughts, incessant.

> _We sink deeper, crushed by dark, the great tentacles slipping past lips and down, down, seeking heat, seeking blood. Swallow the taste of ink, engorge on our enemy's demise, let pleasure war against the depths..._

**SHUT UP** , he growls at the rune, and a kitchen worker glances down from where she's chopping carrots.

"Oh, lookit you," she coos, setting aside her work to crouch and block his way. "Got yerself a big treat there, don'tcha?"

Corvo suffers through several head-pats and nonsense syllables before he wriggles free and dashes off.

"Come back any time, little dog!"

He lays his ears back. Focus. He needs to get evidence from Daud to have Burrows arrested. Focus.

Focus.

_I am NOT a little dog._

At last, having to wait until a servant drags a bin full of food scraps out for transport to the waste barge, he darts into the cool night air. Running along the lee of shadow-cast walls, Corvo works his way towards the kennels. He finds a convenient corner to relieve himself before carrying on.

He wonders suddenly why he's so certain Daud will be there. Is this his own gut-instinct, or is the Outsider toying with him? The rune in his mouth hums against his teeth. Perhaps that's the link. They're both marked, warped by magic. The bone calls to Daud and he follows.

**Corvo?**

He lifts his head, breathing hard through his nose, and listens.

**Attano! Can you hear me? I have what you seek.**

The bark comes from one of the last kennels at the end of the yard. Corvo races over, spits the rune out at the door, and replies, **Where's the evidence?**

Straw rustles and Daud's sleek muzzle pokes between the bars on the door. **Locked in here. With me.**

Corvo can't reach the latch. He's tall in his human form—he never took it for granted until now. **Give me what you have. I'll bring it—**

 **No.**  Even with his muzzle pinched by the bars, Daud smiles. **We need more than simply a letter addressed to me. Burrows will have his word against 'forged blackmail.'**

Corvo growls, pacing. Daud has a point. Damn the man.  **We need a confession.**

 **You could show him your belly,**  Daud says. **Bribe him with your cuteness.**

His nape bristles. **If you weren't in that cage...**  Focus. He can endure taunts from an assassin-turned-hound. **All right,**  Corvo says. **We need help.**

**It's hard to make those who are not dogs understand us.**

Corvo hesitates, looking up at the moon, an idea flitting in the back of his thoughts. This is dangerous. He does not want to put Emily at risk. Yet she is the only one he can see aiding him in this form, and he trusts her discretion. Or he hopes he can trust her not to tell Jessamine of his plight once he's human again.

 **I'll be back,** Corvo barks.

He races back the way he came, leaving the rune to sing to Daud instead.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 

  
The guards obligingly let Corvo back into Emily's room, chuckling as they do. He ignores them.

It takes him two tries to jump back onto the bed from the floor. He digs his claws into the sheets and scrabbles onto the mattress. His daughter is curled up, her feet sticking out from the blankets, clutching a pillow in her sleep. The piece of chalk she held earlier has rolled into a dip in the bed, leaving blue streaks along the white sheets.

Dawn will come sooner than he cares to admit.

Corvo takes a breath. _I love you, Emily._

He whines in her ear. She mumbles about dancing shoes. He licks her cheek, then her ear, then her hair. Her eyes flutter open and she sits up, blinking.

"Oh, Corgo!" She wraps her arms around him and squeezes him tight.

**Emily, I need your help.**

"Do you need to go outside?" She yawns and pushes her tousled hair back behind her ears.

Corvo shakes his head. Emily squints.

"You don't? Then what do you want, silly? It's the middle of the night."

Careful of his teeth, he nips her nightgown sleeve and tugs.

Emily frowns at him. "You want me to play with you? Oh, Corgo. I have lessons in the morning, and Mother wants me to stop being mean to my governess and..."

This is getting nowhere. Corvo lets go of her sleeve and nabs the piece of chalk in his teeth. It taste awful, but with effort, he doesn't gag and drop it. He hops off the bed.

The floors are hardwood and covered with an elegant Tyvian rug. Corvo begins digging at the woven fibers—flexing his back and shoulder muscles as his short legs bunch the rug up like piles of dirt.

Emily gasps. "Corgo! No! Bad dog." She swings out of bed.

He jumps away from her and curls his lips back. The chalk is gripped precariously between his teeth. Emily hesitates, her eyes wide.

"Don't eat that, silly, that's not a treat."

_Child, I know that._

Corvo bends his head and scrapes the chalk against the floor. A long line, a cross line, another long line. A space. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Emily gasps, watching him work in the moonlight.

His penmanship has never been fine, not like Jessamine's. Corvo winces at the sloppy, blocked letters made with his snout. He hopes she can understand.

HELP ME

"You can spell?"

Curved letters are harder. It's bumpier, the first line an uneven C. He wobbles, afraid his drool will melt the chalk and leave him with the taste of grit and no way to finish his work.

CORVO

Emily kneels, staring wide-eyed at the letters. He drops the chalk and looks at her solemnly.

"Corvo?"

He bobs his head, keeping his tongue between his jaws. He hopes it makes her take him more seriously.

"You're...a dog?"

He sighed and nods again.

Emily squeals with glee and scoops him up into a hug. "Oh my stars, I thought you disappeared! How are you a dog? Why didn't you tell me? Don't worry, Corvo, I'll have Mother find all the best minds in all of Dunwall and we'll fix you in no time." She giggles. "Oops. Maybe not fixed for a word, huh?"

**Emily, put me down. I'm your father!**

He squirms and finally she relents, plopping onto the floor and holding him in her lap. She cups his face in her hands, her nose inches from his.

"I promise I won't tell _anyone_  else about you, Corvo."

He can't help himself, and licks her nose in gratitude. Emily giggles again in delight.

He jumps off her and races to the door. **We need to free Daud. I need your help.**

"Corvo," Emily croons, "we can make you better in the morning." She yawns again. "I'm glad you're back, too, but..."

He whines and stamps a paw in frustration. **We don't have until dawn.**

Emily's brows furrow. "This is serious?"

Corvo barks.

"All right. I trust you."

Emily pulls on her shoes and ties back her hair. "We're on a secret mission, aren't we? Hold on." She rummages in the table drawer and pulls out a cloth bag with her colored chalk. "So we can communicate." She nods, tucks the chalk in her pocket, and tiptoes to the door. "Follow me lead. I'll handle this," she whispers, then throws the door open. It almost hits Corvo in the face.

"I'm taking my dog out to pee," Emily decrees.

Both guards look at her.

"But he just went out, my lady," the guard with the pear soda says.

"Well he has to go again! I'll be fine."

"We have to accompany you, my lady," the smoker says. "For your own safety."

Emily looks at Corvo. He sighs. He wants her safe, regardless of stealth.

Emily folds her arms over her chest and looks down her nose at the guards. "Very well, but keep quiet. I don't want to wake anyone else up. And do _not_  tell my governess about this. Or my mother. I warn you."

Both guards salute. "Yes, my lady."

Corvo beams at his daughter, wagging his tail. She makes him so proud.

#

It's easier with the guards to open doors. Corvo leads them on the fastest route he can recall to the kennel yard. Emily imperiously waves the guards to stand watch. With the bright moon and the empty courtyard, they reluctantly stay put.

"Where now?" Emily whispers.

Corvo sprints towards the kennel Daud is in. Emily runs after him.

The rune hums.

**Corvo?**  Daud huffs.

**I'm here. With Emily.**

**Her Highness?**

**If you touch her...**

**Relax,**  Daud says. **I don't hurt kids.**

Emily looks from Corvo to the kennel. "Is there something in there?"

Corvo nods. He stands on his hind legs and paws at her pocket. She fishes a piece of chalk out and hands it to him. Working in the shadow of the kennel so the guards can't see him, Corvo laboriously sketches out a few words.

BURROWS DANGER MUST STOP NEED CONFESSION

Emily's eyes widen and she claps her hand over her mouth. "The Royal Spymaster? But why?"

Daud thumps a shoulder against the door. **Finer details can wait. Let me out, Corvo.**

Corvo peers back at the guards. They're talking in hushed voices, only periodically glancing at Emily. He simultaneously wants them transferred for negligence and is glad of their boredom.

Corvo lays a paw on the kennel door.

Emily nods and opens it. Daud stalks out, staring at Emily. His head is level with hers. She grins. "Oh, you are so handsome!"

Corvo groans. **Seriously, child?**

Daud smirks, sits, and offers Emily a paw to shake. She beams.

"A pleasure to meet you, lord hound," Emily says, curtseying.

Corvo will not stop Daud leaving the city when this is over. He never wants to see the master assassin again after tonight.

**Emily,**  Corvo says, drawing her attention.

Daud tips his chin at the chalk scribbles and rumbles low in his chest.

Emily nods gravely. "Is he a traitor? Did he try to hurt my mother?"

Both Corvo and Daud nod.

Emily's small hands clench at her sides. "He will pay."

Corvo taps a paw on the word CONFESSION. Daud slips into the kennel and returns a moment later with a correspondence tube. He drops it at Emily's feet.

She sits and opens the letter. "Oh wow, he paid someone named Daud to hurt my mother. That bastard."

**Emily! Language!**

She ignores him. "But you say we need a confession?"

Daud nods.

"I suppose we can't tell Mother yet. He might run, is that what you're worried about, Corvo?"

**Yes.**

Or that Burrows will hurt her, and he will be unable to prevent it. That fear chills him. He cannot let anything happen to Emily. He will kill the Outsider themself before letting his child come to harm.

Emily's face lights up. "I have an idea. Come on, boys. We need to find an audiograph."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 

 

Daud keeps an ear canted back towards the two guards, who follow the girl with the resignation of soldiers being paid too little for the work they do. Corvo trots at Emily's right, and Daud flanks her on the other side.

"Lady Emily," one guard finally says. "Should you not return to your quarters and, erm, go to bed?"

"This is a matter of state," Emily says as she leads them all through the Tower. They stopped in her governess' study and now Emily carries an audiograph with her. Daud likes the girl. She has wit and spark. Reminds him of Billie, when he first met her. "Not a word or you'll both find yourselves shipped off to the front."

"The front, my lady?"

"Yes. No more questions."

"The front of what?" one guard whispers to the other, and Daud glances back to see the shorter man shrug, helpless.

In the kennel yard, Emily had sketched out her plan to Corvo and Daud. The corgi's eyes were concerned, but Daud liked the girl's gumption.

It's a clever plan. Place an audiograph somewhere hidden and bait Burrows into confessing. The only problem is ridding themselves of the two guards who follow like the paid soldiers they are.

At last they arrive at the empty sitting room is located below the spymaster's chambers. Daud sniffs. Tobacco smoke, baked bread, cheap cologne. The sitting room is dim-lit, and Emily plunks the audiograph underneath a table in the middle of the room. She turns up one lamp enough for her to see, and Daud blinks as his vision adjusts. A pair of couches along one wall; a huge portrait of Hiram Burrows hanging above a cold fireplace.

Emily brushes off her hands and turns to the guards. "I don't know who you are," she says.

"Mavril," the tall one says.

"Boris," says the other. They shift their weight, sweat dampening their uniforms. Their nervousness is sour in Daud's nostrils.

The girl smiles. "Mavril, Boris. Listen. Do you remember the attack on my mother yesterday?"

Both guards nod, wary.

"We'll keep you safe, Lady Emily," Boris says. "But, um...this really isn't the time for games..."

"I know. That's why we're here." Emily folds her hands in front of her and looks up through her lashes. "I don't feel safe in _my_  room. And everyone knows where I sleep! I kept waking up, having nightmares about those assassins in masks." Tears well in her eyes.

The kid is a master. Daud approves.

"Oh. Um." Boris's face flushes. "Well..."

"It's just for tonight," Emily says. "I'll ask Mother to get me new rooms in the morning. But...I forgot my blanket." She sits down on the couch. "Can one of you get it for me? I'm cold."

The guards exchange a look.

"Besides," Emily says. "My dogs will make sure no one sneaks in while you're gone!"

"We can't leave you alone, my lady," Mavril says, scuffing one boot against the floor.

Emily nods. "I know. So Boris can go get my blanket, and you can stand guard outside in the hall so no assassins get me. Please? I'm awful tired. But I can't sleep without my blanket and..."

"All right," Mavril says with a sigh. "Whatever you want, my lady."

"Thank you. You're good soldiers."

Boris and Mavril shuffle out. Daud follows, waiting for his moment. Boris mumbles under his breath as he trudges back the way they came and Mavril leans against the wall.

**Corvo, it's clear.**

The door, left ajar, doesn't squeak. Corvo glares at Daud.

**If anything happens to her...**

Daud shakes his head. **She's safe. Go lure the spymaster.**

Corvo scampers down the hallway. Mavril doesn't turn. When he does look around, Daud is sitting outside the door, ears perked and alert.

"At least you're not an assassin," the guard mumbles. 

**If only you knew.**

The man sighs heavily. "Shit, I'm not getting paid enough for this..."

Daud doubts anyone not in business for himself ever is.

He met with Burrows only once, and it was late. The man burns oil all night. If he's nervous, he won't sleep. He'll make his move before suspicion falls on him or the Empress questions his loyalty and competence. Daud waits. The night is waning. They have but a few hours until dawn.

#

Corvo is tempted to sink his teeth into Burrows's neck the moment he spots the man pacing in his office. The door was left a crack open, and he nosed it wide enough to let him squeeze through.

Hiram Burrows. Once a loyal servant of the Empress and the empire. Now a forsaken traitor. He will pay.

Corvo keeps his lips pulled over his teeth and scuttles under the table. Burrows paces, rubbing his hands.

"There should be word by now," the man mutters under his breath. "Where are they?"

Corvo studies his prey. If he had his muscles, his weapons, his prowess...well, it would be an easy thing to pull Hiram into a headlock and choke him unconscious. As a dog, and slung low to the ground on stubby legs, Corvo needs an alternative solution.

Damn the Outsider for this.

As Burrows continues his back and forth, boots clicking the polished floor, the stink of sweat heavy on his clothes, Corvo spots the heavy purse strapped to the back of the man's belt, along with a ring of keys.

He has to time this perfectly. Corvo crouches, bunching his muscles, and the second the man's back is to him, he launches himself from under the table.

Corvo hits Burrows in the ass, clamps his teeth down on the ring of keys, and they both crash to the floor. Barrows yelps in surprise. Corvo glares at him. No time to instill fear into this traitor's heart. Corvo shakes the keys in his mouth, turns, and bolts from the office.

"You fucking rat!"

Heavy footsteps pound after him.

Corvo bolts down the hallway. Burrows isn't shouting, but the man's breath huffs as he struggles to keep pace. Corvo may be short, now, but he's always had speed. Years of training, his reflexes steely and sharp.

Keys jingle and bounce against his chin as he runs. Down one flight of stairs, around a corner, and he'll be in the hallway leading to the sitting room. Corvo's heart pounds, and not from the run. He's leading a monster to his daughter, trusting she's strong enough to defeat it when he cannot.

_Be ready, Emily. You can do this._

Void help them all.

#

Daud hears the panting breath and click of dog nails on the floor long before Mavril does.

Huh. It seems the Royal Corgi has managed to lure Burrows out of hiding after all. Daud leaps to his feet with a growl.

Mavril, picking at a scab on the back of his hand, startles. "What is it?"

Daud points his muzzle in the opposite direction. His lips curl back over teeth and he barks. Mavril looks from him to the empty hall and swallows.

"Boris, that you?"

No reply.

Daud stalks forward. There's a turn in the hallway that blocks the guard's line of sight.

"Shit, oh shit. What if it's the assassins like the kid said? Fuck! Boris, why you gotta take so long..."

Daud lunges forward, snarling, and like a trained hound, Mavril follows. Daud leads the guard down the hall and skids to a halt in front of a door. He growls louder, stifling his amusement.

"Who'd be stupid enough to hide in the bathroom?" But Mavril's scared. He's alone on shift, responsible for the life of the future empress, and there are assassins in every shadow.

And right next to him.

Daud continues snarling at the door. Mavril tries the handle. It gives, and he shoves the door open, sword drawn as he peeks inside.

Daud backs away, an ear cocked behind him. Footsteps, a skidding of paws on the floor, and then a sharp bang as the sitting room door flies open.

Burrows has arrived.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 

  
Corvo whirls, his paws catching on the cracks between floorboards, and stands near the back of the room with Burrows's keys. He spits out the ring with a jingle and places a paw on the keys.

Emily remains hidden under the table, and she clicks on the audiograph, one finger pressed to her lips. Corvo nods.

"Shitty little rat-dog," Burrows says, stomping forward.

"Why did you want to kill my mother?" Emily says, crawling out from beneath the table.

Burrows jumps in surprise and turns to her. "Your highness!"

"Why," Emily says again, folding her arms, "did you hire the assassin Daud to kill my _mother_?"

Burrows splutters a moment. Then he smiles an leans one hand on a knee, bending down closer to her eye level. "My dear, I don't know what you're talking about. Did you have a bad dream?"

"No," Emily says. She withdraws the letter from her pocket. "I just read this."

Burrows's face darkens instantly. "Where the fuck did you get that?"

"Your office," Emily says.

"You lying little bitch! I'd never keep—" He clenches his hands and forces a smile. "I would never be stupid enough to conceal such propaganda in my own space."

Emily's chin juts forward. "I'm going to show this to my mother, and we'll see what she says."

"Give me that this instant."

"Touch me and I'll scream," Emily snaps back, hiding the letter behind her back.

"You'll scream all right," Burrows snarls. "Give that to me."

"No!"

Burrows takes a step forward.

**Touch her and die!**

Corvo snarls and snaps his jaws down on the man's ankle. He tastes blood and skin through the fine linen pants. Satisfaction, too. Burrows swears and shakes his leg, but Corvo holds on, snarling. This bastard will _not_  harm his daughter.

"Leave him alone!" Emily yells. She grabs a platter filled with apples from the table and throws it at Burrows.

Fruit bounces off the man's arm and face, knocking him back a step. He trips and Corvo yanks. Burrows crashes to the floor. He swears and reaches for his pistol. Corvo lets go and lunges for Burrows's throat.

The spymaster whips his arm out, slamming the pistol butt into the side of Corvo's head. The blow knocks him sprawling, dazed. Dammit. _Get up. Get UP._

He scrabbles to his paws. Burrows, despite his bleeding ankle, surges to his feet a second faster. The man's face is cherry-red in fury.

Burrows kicks Corvo savagely in the ribs, and the blow sends him flying into the wall. Corvo hits the plaster-painted stone and something crunches in his back. He slumps down, dizzy.

"Corvo!" Emily screams. She picks up the fallen platter and raises it over her head like a weapon.

Burrows spins towards her and raises his gun. Emily freezes.

**Emily! No!**  Corvo howls. He struggles to stand, but his hind legs won't respond. He can't feel anything past his shoulders. Panic sweeps through him. All his will is useless against a broken spine.

Burrows points the pistol at her. She stands frozen, eyes wide.

**Emily!**

#

Daud hears Corvo's yelp and the girl's name a moment before he skids into the sitting room. He sees death, old and familiar, as soon as he spots Burrows. Knows the tension in the air before a man kills.

The man aims a pistol at Emily's head.

Daud hurls himself forward, knocking the girl flat with a shoulder to her back. The pistol booms. Pain sears Daud's ribs and the impact sends him rolling.

Emily screams. "Don't shoot my dogs!"

"Shut up! Or you'll be next—you shouldn't even be here! If that fucking Attano hadn't interfered, your bitch mother would be in a grave and you'd be in a fucking cell now!"

Daud staggers to his feet, lips peels back to show fang.

Emily jumps up. Shaking, tears in her eyes. "Traitor!" she yells. "Traitor!"

Daud steps between Emily and Burrows, snarling. Daring the man to shoot him again. Footsteps echo outside in the hall.

The pistol barrel points between his eyes.

Boris and Mavril burst through the door. The guards yell in surprise, and Boris flings the quilted blanket into Burrows's face. Burrows shouts, staggering back, hampered by cloth. Then Mavril tackles the Royal Spymaster and the two men hit the floor with a loud _whump_.

Daud grits his teeth against the pain and crawls towards the audiograph under the table. He jabs his muzzle at it, looks at Emily, then points to the door.

**Take it. Run, girl.**

Emily bites her lip. "Corvo?"

Daud limps towards the wounded corgi. **I'll keep him safe for you.**

Emily nods, grim-faced, snatches the audiograph tape and flees. Daud sits next to Corvo.

**She's safe,**  he says.

Corvo shuts his eyes. A huff of breath escapes the Royal Protector. **Thank you.**

Daud nods in silence. Up on the decorative moulding near the ceiling, he spots a black cat-shaped figure disappearing through a vent.

#

The gunshot brings other guards and soon the Empress herself, with Emily and the recording in tow.

Boris babbles about seeing an assassin vanish from Emily's room; Burrows is arrested and the truth of whom he has in his pockets will come out; Jessamine hugs Emily close as she listens to the damning audiograph. Her face is hard-set. There will be no mercy for those who threaten her and her family.

It's over. Dawn creeps over Dunwall: a new day, a better day

Corvo tries not to groan as Emily sits and pulls him into her lap, petting his head and whispering, "It'll be all right, it'll be all right."

Yes, it will. She's safe. That's all he needs to know.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 

 

  
The kennel master shakes her head and tells Emily, "There's naught I can do for these ones. The wolfhound's bleeding internally. Your small hound won't recover. Best to put them both out of their misery."

Corvo is proud Emily doesn't punch the kennel keep. She has more manners than that. "No. That's—I won't do that."

"Then make 'em comfortable," the woman says gently. "I'm sorry, your highness. I wish I could do more."

Emily only nods.

#

Morning brings the song of gulls and the taste of wind. Emily has asked to be alone with the two dogs, sitting with them on the gazebo where it all began. Not so long ago, really.

Daud's breath labors. The pain in his gut is a slow-beating drum, a pulse that makes each lungfull of air grinding agony. He's used to pain. Knows that it ends in time.

Corvo lies with his eyes closed, head on the girl's knee. The air turns gray, a dust storm without the sand. Daud lift his chin. He knows this state: the pressure on his mind, the low, whispering thrum of magic. Time has stopped, leaving him and Corvo outside the Void's hold.

A sleek black cat with depthless eyes appears on the rail of the gazebo. Daud huffs a laugh, even through pain. Little bastard. **The look fits you,**  he says.

The Outsider licks a paw and smooths back sharp whiskers. "You didn't let the world burn, did you? Saved the girl's life. She'll grow up to become the most beloved Empress the Isles might ever see."

Daud shrugs, winces, and slowly pushes himself up onto his paws. **You here to claim me?**

"Is that what you want?" the Outsider asks, voice a soft purr.

Daud wants what he told Corvo: to disappear from Dunwall and start again. Except now...with the girl safe and the Empress alive, he lets himself think perhaps he deserves it. He's made his amends; it'll never be enough, because blood never washes clean from hands or soul. Yet when he looks at Emily Kaldwin, pictures her standing in this gazebo decades from now, gray-haired and happy, her empire stable and at peace, he doesn't regret. If he could change his past, he might. He might not. All that matters now is what he chose to do when offered opportunity. If this ends with his final death, so be it. He isn't afraid of the Void.

**Are you offering something different?**  Daud asks.

The cat smirks. "You fascinate me, Daud. Like the Royal Protector, you both shape the world far more than you know. Come, and bring Corvo one last time."

The Outsider steps off the rail and vanishes. Daud feels the edges of time bending, struggling to snap back into the flow of reality. He grabs Corvo's scruff in his jaws, lifting the corgi with effort.

Corvo doesn't protest. His heartbeat is fainter now. Daud glances at Emily once more. _Be well, Empress._

Then, carrying Corvo, Daud steps over the edge towards the ocean. He slips into the Void.

#

Corvo opens his eyes to an empty sky. A whale drifts by, sonorous and moon-bright.

"Tell me something," the Outsider says, lying beside him with their hands folded behind their head. "You have always been ready to die for your Empress and the girl. Do you think you can live for them, if given opportunity?"

Corvo narrows his eyes and sits up. He looks about, doesn't see Emily. She's safe, though. He remembers her sitting on the gazebo, holding him. Her tears dripping onto his fur. He's a man in body and mind again—relief swells and almost chokes him. "Yes," he rasps.

"I hope you can swim," the Outsider says, and Corvo is falling again.

The water closes around him, salt-cold and sharp. The rising sun filters down into the ocean waves. He flails, struggling to push himself up towards air. Bubbles seep through his closed lips. The weight of clothes and weapons pull at him. He kicks his legs.

Emily is up there. Jessamine. His home.

He will not drown here so close to them.

Corvo swims. His head breaks free of the water and he gasps for breath. Brine soaks his hair and stubble. He spits to the side and begins swimming for the wide, lumpy rocks that skirt the base of the tower. He drags himself up onto stone, onto safety, and crouches, panting.

He's alive. Human, sopping wet, and alive.

"Emily?" he calls, his voice hoarse.

Her face peeks over the rail, so high above. "Corvo! You're back!"

He grins. "Stay there. I'll come to you."

The mark on his hand throbs. He glances at it. To his right, sudden movement and the splash of water on stone. He turns, reaching for his sword.

A long-limbed wolfhound, dripping with seawater, stands on the rocks nearby. The wound in his ribs is closed, and he stands without evident pain. Dark eyes watch Corvo.

"Daud," Corvo says.

The wolfhound nods once. Waits. A perfect target. He seems to be asking, silently, **Will you let me go?**

"Don't come back to Dunwall," Corvo says.

Daud inclines his head, then turns and follows the rocks down the coast and out of sight.

Corvo clenches his hand and Blinks up to the gazebo railing.

"Corvo!"

He sweeps Emily into his arms and spins her around. They both laugh in relief as the sun arcs towards its apex over Dunwall Tower. Corvo looks down the steps to see Jessamine running towards them. He sets Emily down and waits for his Empress, smiling.

It is good to be home.

 


	10. Chapter 10

  
**Epilogue**

 

   
At dinner, just the three of them in Jessamine's study, Corvo watches Emily sketch. She draws herself with two dogs standing over a defeated Hiram Burrows.

Corvo smiles.

"What amuses you?" the Empress asks, sipping her wine.

Corvo rubs his thumb over the Outsider's mark on his hand. "Been thinking. About the rat plague and...ideas."

Jessamine nods for him to go on.

Corvo settles back in his chair. "What about bringing in cats to help with the vermin population?"

#

Daud's paw itches. He sits at the edge of a spit of rock along the waterfront, watching the sun fall apart in a blistering pallete over the ocean. He looks down. The fur along his toes and at the crease of his ankle bone is darker. Like when his skin was tattooed.

Intrigued, Daud flexes his paw like he does when calling on the Void magic granted him. His body stretches and for a heartbeat he feels like he does when he Blinks: coming apart at the seams, a breath shy of shattering.

Then he's kneeling, hands—his hands, scarred and callused—spread on the rock to support his weight. The sleeves of his red jacket brush his wrists. Wind caresses his skin. The press of sheathed knives at his side, the pull of his belt against his hips.

He's human again. Daud breathes deep, calmed, and sits back on his heels. This isn't so bad. He can disappear, the way he has wanted for so long, and as man or hound, he'll start a new life. Elsewhere, his name only legend and his deeds fireside stories.

A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye makes him turn. Half-hidden in the lengthening shadows, a black cat stretches. Its glittering eyes meet his. The cat winks, the melts back into darkness and is gone.

Daud smiles and flexes his hand.

#

In 1838, after the decline of the rat plague, the _Dunwall Courier_ began publishing a column titled DUNWALL'S DOGS: RATED by Kald Emil. Each installment described the virtues of a dog (sometimes more than one at a time) in the empire. Each column was accompanied by a black and white illustration. Critics said early drawings were blatant imitations of Anton Sokolov's unique style; however Emil's illustrations eventually developed a distinct flair of their own and DUNWALL'S DOGS became wildly popular. It ran uninterrupted for fourteen years.

  
**THE END**


End file.
